Spring break sucks
by teacupdestiny
Summary: It was supposed to be a spring fling; no strings, no promises. Katara should have known better. Modern day college drabble series for zutara week '13. M (image by Merina-Sky)
1. Calor

It's so god awfully hot in LA. Really, she should have known better. It would have been a much better idea to stay back east, where it was still lovely and cool and cold this time of year. But one does not simply urn down an offer from Toph Bei Fong. Especially when it involves an all-expenses paid trip and a two week stay at her summer home along the beach. Katara isn't nearly that stupid. She just wishes Toph didn't have a thing for raging house parties, the kind that didn't stop until the drinks ran dry and the cops were at the door.

Well…maybe she had a problem with it an hour ago, but she's just met the most infuriatingly handsome boy and the perils of partying are suddenly not very important. The guy is Japanese and his eyes are the wildest shade of yellow gold. Katara is half-convinced he's wearing contacts, but it's not humanly possible to create an eye color so enchanting. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought someone had spiked her cherry coke. The boy introduces himself as Zuko and Katara thinks that if she didn't want to punch him she might actually be in danger of wanting to kiss him. It looks like the first option will be occurring first.

"Your style is no match for mine." he says as they circle each other.

She's not quite sure how it happened (she was seriously convinced someone had spiked _both_ their drinks), but they went from trading barbs to challenging each other to impromptu sparring matches on Toph's deck before a single hour was out.

"Style is hardly the deciding factor in a fight," she tells him as she slips off her heels and shrugs off her shawl, "I will be winning, though."

Zuko slides off his jacket, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up (apparently he'd been under the impression that Toph was throwing a _civilized_ (re: upper-crust) party and had dressed accordingly).

"You keep telling yourself that, Katara," he says, "If that's how you cope with losing."

She growls at him, shifts away as he lunges. Zuko whirls into a spinning back kick. She slides back, slaps his leg down and delivers a rapid barrage of punches to his rib-cage. The first few catch their mark, but Zuko quickly brings his arms up and they trade blows. It's turning into a slug-fest (Katara's not stupid enough to think that she can win in a straight up boxing style blow out) and she retreats. She's been in a few tournaments, a dozen organized matches, but this is the first unsupervised fight she's ever been in. There is no way she's about to lose it.

Zuko drives her toward the balcony and she dances away, twirling as though they really are just normal twenty-something's dancing drunkenly on a random balcony (this is when she wonders why she can't ever meet a _normal_ boy). Katara remains fluid and ready; he's in a solid and unwavering back stance. She kicks, he slides away and throws her a few punches as a parting gift. It's as though they are perfect opposites, dancing in parallel dimensions. He is the sun and she is the moon and when they meet the entire world is eclipsed by their strength and energy and life.

Katara realizes she can't win this fight (but neither can he) and so she throws the rule book out the window and tackles him. Surprise colors Zuko's features, but his arms are ready and he twirls her around like this is some terrible chick-flick musical and not actually real life. It's so embarrassing that for a moment she wants to die from the shame of being involved in something so cliché—only she's too busy being entrances by his eyes and wondering what it might be like to kiss him. It's an opportunity too great to resist.

His lips touch hers and then it's the tranquil ocean of her libido explodes…well like…a bomb (she'll come to discover that kissing Zuko is severely damaging to any wit she has fought Sokka tooth and nail for, not to mention a menace to her iron-clad sense of propriety and general IQ level). It doesn't matter that she's reeling from a nasty break because Jet is the last thing on her mind; Zuko is here in the flesh and blood and very much attractive, thank you very much. It doesn't help that he can kiss like it's nobody's business.

"Alright you two; break it the hell up," Toph announces from the balcony doors, "If you're not going to continue with the grudge match—then cut the mush and take it to a bedroom!"

This is when Katara notices that a crowd has gathered (her brother included, _why_ is this moment even happening?) and she flushes a mortified shade of red. Zuko's face in unreadable, but his are amused. The crowd begins chanting, something along the lines of _fight-fight-fight-fight_ and Toph won't stop with that terrible shit-eating grin.

"I'm afraid fighting will have to wait," Zuko says, his grip tightening around her waist, "I believe I have an appointment in Katara's bedroom, if you'll excuse us."

_Oh spirits_, she thinks, _I'm never going to live this down._


	2. Euphoria

Waking up next to Zuko would be lovely, Katara thinks, if it were remotely possible. But it's not. Maybe it's some mystical ninja training he was subjected to as a child, maybe there's something in the water that mutated him; she has no idea. Whatever the reason, Katara is well and truly positive that Zuko's head would explode if he tried to wake after the sun.

This is very frustrating for the night-owl, late-waker that she is (who in their right mind wakes before six anyway? Seriously?). There is, however, an upside. Zuko, who is surprisingly sweet and adorable despite the Asian bad-boy image, has a thing for bringing girls breakfast in bed. It's very flattering and wonderful and amazing and she's not sure how she'll go back to waking up alone when this break is over. It's not something she wants to think about. Instead, Katara focuses on the sound of her (really, in the last few days, it's unofficially become Zuko's as well) bedroom door opening, a sound so faint that she almost didn't hear it (no, she is not already awake and waiting for him. Complete coincidence. Seriously). She doesn't hear him cross the carpet, but she feels his rough, calloused hands ghost across her back and up her arms, lifting away a tangle of curls and pressing a kiss to the base of her neck. His lips press against her shoulder, right beneath her ear, her cheek. She shivers, more than half-awake and way more than half-aroused. Katara opens her eyes just as he kisses her lips, soft and quick and sweet and then the dork kisses her nose.

"Hungry?" he asks, helping her sit and handing her a tray.

She'd argued with him for the first few mornings, demanded that he jump back in bed and finish what he'd started _or else_. Zuko, though, is a lot like her; stupidly stubborn and ridiculously adorable.

"I'm hungry for _you_." Katara tells him with the most disgruntled look she can manage, even as she picks out a blueberry muffin.

At this point Zuko is usually grimacing through a cup of tea (a stupid promise to a very beloved uncle he'd once explained after a particularly horrified expression on her part), but he still has the gall to smile back at her with all the innocence of a choir-boy. She can't understand why he won't sleep with her before breakfast, but he won't explain (his face will turn the _most_ adorable shade of red, though). Zuko is odd like that, but Katara won't even deny loving that about him.

"So," she asks around a mouth full of muffin, "What's the plan for today?"

He snatches a section of her muffin, "It looks like a toss-up between Six-Flags or Sea World."

Katara is benevolent enough to overlook Zuko's muffin transgression and quickly jumps aboard the Sea World campaign. He makes a face, rolling his eyes (he's not too keen on driving down to San Diego, especially considering the nasty motion-sickness he often suffers from).

"We could do something else," she offers despite herself, "There is the beach or maybe we could go to the Santa Monica pier?"

Zuko shakes his head, but there is a glint in his eyes.

"I'll take you to the pier tonight," he offers," After dinner."

Her head bobs up and down on it's own accord and Katara comes to realize exactly how much she want to go on a _real_ date with Zuko. She must be grinning like an idiot, but that's okay because Zuko is too.

"I can't wait." She tells him, leaning over to kiss him hard on the mouth.

Despite her morning breath and blueberry strained teeth, she's convincing enough that Zuko gets around to finishing what he'd started. Katara hardly has the opportunity to rub it in his face; she's too busy drowning in the euphoria. It's so easy to forget how temporary this is and for a short few minutes she succeeds.

The group eventually votes for Six-Flags (Toph had suddenly decided to become very vocal about the plight of blind people) much to Zuko's relief and her annoyance (inviting Sokka along was a _bad_ idea). The ticket lines are long and the sun is a vengeful presence in the sky, but the Bei Fong heir has little trouble securing a few fast passes. It becomes clear that the absence of ride-lines makes everything infinitely better (except for Zuko's weak stomach, but she's nice enough to rub his back while he vomits in the bushes). It's a lot more fun than Katara expects, but all too soon it's evening and she's strolling along the Santa Monica pier with Zuko.

It's almost hilarious, really. They're both over-dressed, more like this is a _real_ first date. Katara slips her hand into his and despite reason and common sense shouting at her, tries to pretend that this really is the first date. Technically, she's not far from the truth (this is a "date" and it is the "first"), but this unexpected relationship with Zuko has been very clear from the start.

_It's just a fling_, she'd told him, _No promises or strings. We part in two weeks and that's that._

He'd looked at her for a long moment (it was hard to concentrate on his face and not the fact that they were both half-naked) and agreed. He hasn't mentioned a girlfriend or relationship, but Toph had let it slip that there was an ex-fiancée with a thing for pre-martial cheating. It was clear that neither wanted to dwell on their own relationship problems. It so much easier to pretend that Jet doesn't exist and Zuko is new boyfriend, at least for these few short weeks.

"I've had fun tonight," she tells him, "So thank you."

Between a noodle dinner at a random vendor and wasting money on rigged games (very much worth the koalasheep plushie he'd presented her with, though) and wandering on the pier this night has been absolutely wonderful. She kisses his cheek, standing on her tip toes with on hand balanced on his arm. Zuko smiles, but says nothing. He squeezes her hand.

Katara hasn't been this happy in a long time. She can't imagine any other place she'd rather be; anchored to Earth by Zuko's warm, calloused grip. This euphoria, this pleasure and love and joy is so temporary, as wonderful as it is painful. She didn't know it was possible to feel so happy and yet so, so sad at the same time. She wishes this night didn't have to end.


	3. Voices

For once Katara wakes alone. She is immediately struck by the worst realization: today is her last day in L.A.

_Literally_.

The plane leaves at 8 PM tonight and she'd very much like to roll over and _die_.

"Where is Azula?" Zuko says in the other room, "What do you want?"

She sits up; Katara has never heard him speak in that tone. It's vicious and angry and more than anything, it's _hurt_. Hearing it hurts her.

"No, you're not," he says, "You're only sorry because you got caught."

Judging from the long silences, she guesses that he's on the phone. It's not hard, though, to miss his furious pacing. He must be wearing a hole in the carpet.

"You destroyed our marriage before it had a chance to start; there's nothing left to fix, Mai. It's over."

Katara hugs her pillow; this must be the ex-fiancee that Toph mentioned. A lot of things suddenly make sense about Zuko; a dozen other things suddenly seem so confusing.

"How do you know about Katara?" Zuko suddenly asks, his voice deadly calm.

She stiffens. She doesn't want to know how his fiancee came to know of her existence, nor does she want to be involved in some marital squabble. Not for the first time, she wants to know so much more about him. If only the two weeks could have lasted longer. Katara is so lost in her own misery that she doesn't realize how quiet Zuko has gotten until he practically explodes.

"Don't you dare turn this on me," he shouts, "You cheated on _me_, Mai. As far as I'm concerned it's over…I have nothing left to say to you."

The phone slaps shut and the bedroom door flies open. Zuko storms in and then stops short. His eyes meet hers and the anger slowly drains out of his face.

"I guess you heard that." he says.

"I think the entire house heard the last bit," she says, "But yes."

Katara catches a flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, but when he blinks it's gone.

"I'm sorry for yelling." He tells her.

"It's okay," she hugs him, "Do…do you want to talk about it?"

He frowns at her, shakes his head as if to say not, but surprisingly tells her yes.

"I caught my fiancee in bed with one of my friends," he says, "I decked the asshole, threw her out of the house and it's been a month since."

Katara blinks, eyes wide, "I'm so—

He puts a finger to her lips. "Don't," he says, "I'm fine."

She can't help the sadness, can't contain the desire to help him in any way possible. Katara bites back tears. Zuko stares at the window, lips pursued. He looks more frustrated than angry, really. He turns to her slowly and the pain is very clear in his eyes.

"You know, " he says, "We were to be married the day I met you."

She can't imagine how he must have felt and tears finally fall.

"I'm so sorry, Zuko," she cries softly, "I wish you'd gotten a real wedding instead of just me."

He holds her close, nestles his nose in the crook of her neck, "I'm glad you were the one with me."

In his arms, she cries for the longest time; for Zuko's pain, for the man she's about to lose and never really had, but more and so much more selfishly she cries for her broken, broken heart.

Her things are packed. She wishes there was more, but it was so easy to fill a single suitcase. Katara closes the bedroom door for the last time, closing two weeks worth of Zuko and unconditional happiness. She promises herself that she won't cry anymore (he'll show up any moment to drive her and Sokka to the airport and frankly, she's already done enough crying in his arms for one day). She'll miss him plenty, but this was just a fling. Just a stupid, small fling. Katara doesn't know his last name and she'd not going to ask. It will be a clean break, plain and simple.

She lifts her carry on pack and heads for the stairs. She can hear their voices before she sees them.

"I'm just worried about her," he brother says, "She's just so in to him. It's not normal."

There is a thunk and a hiss of pain from Sokka.

"Relax," Toph says, "Sweetness knows how to take care of herself. Give the girl a little bit of credit."

Sokka sighs, "I don't want another Jet. Not so soon."

Toph is quiet for a moment. "Zuko isn't like that," she says, "I had him swear up and down that he wouldn't hurt her. Sparky insisted it was temporary, but you know them. Give it two weeks."

She sounds so amused and so sure, but Katara can only imagine Sokka's look of utter contempt. She's not sure how to feel about their conversation, aside from the fact that _everybody_ seems to be talking about her today. She can take care of herself, thank you very much, and she knows she'll survive just fine without Zuko.

She will. She has to.

The ride to the airport is quiet, mostly Sokka giving Zuko threatening looks (Toph won't be flying out until the next day and had given her goodbye punches in the privacy of her home). Katara stares out the window, at anything but Zuko really. She doesn't want to hope that he might want more than just a fling because the time to have said so is long, long past.

She tries to get caught up in the process of getting aboard the plane, trying to forget Zuko's existence. It doesn't help that he's with her every step of the way, taking her bag when it becomes too heavy for her to manage. He offers her a small smile, an attempt to reassure her. His hands shouldn't linger on hers; flirting is pointless when they're never going to see each other again. But they do. It confuses her and Katara wants to scream. She wants to hope; she wants to know the answer to a question she can't ask. The best she can do is make an excuse and flee to the bathroom at the first possible chance.

Five minutes alone is more than enough time. She takes a few breathes, clears her mind. Katara fixes her hair, applies a bit of chapstick. She tells herself, once again, that she _will_ get through this. She _will_.

Upon returning to the menfolk, she finds them deep in conversation. About her. How surprising.

"She's going through a hard time," Sokka says, "And she doesn't need you on top of it all."

"Katara is an adult. She's capable of making her own decisions."

Zuko sounds angry, though his face is expressionless. Sokka is clearly agitated, but he struggles to calm himself.

"I'm just saying. Don't make it worse on her," he says, "Unless you'd like a boomerang shoved—

"Hey guys!" Katara interrupts them loudly, "Are we ready to go?"

She getting really tired of this. She just wants to go home, but there are certain goodbyes that have to happen before that.

Saying goodbye to Zuko is not easy. It's the hardest thing she's ever done (without slipping her number into his pocket and telling him to find her or that she truly and desperately does not want to say goodbye to him). Katara hugs him, kisses his cheek as though they are brother and sister.

"Thank you for everything," she says, "It was a pleasure knowing you."

Zuko smiles that quirky one-sided enigmatic smile of his. "Likewise." He says and then kisses her on the mouth. It tests her resolve and more than anything she wants to throw her arms around his neck and just_stay_ there. Her brother comes to the rescue, though.

"Alright, break it up, break it up," he grows, "I'd like to keep my breakfast in my stomach."

She ignores him, touches her lips to his one last time and whispers a thank you. Katara hoists her bag and then boards the plan without another glance.

It's not until an hour later, somewhere in the air above the world, that she turns to Sokka and cries in his arms.


	4. Gravity

If spring break was like living on the moon, then coming back is a lot like hurtling back to Earth. The landing is smooth, pleasant even (there's nothing like _not_ breaking up in the atmosphere and becoming a human popcorn), but stepping off the shuttle (or the plan if you're going to be picky about it) is when gravity really hits her. Reality is not a pleasant mistress to those who have forsaken her cult.

Maybe Katara should have known better, but she doesn't have time to beat herself up over it. Things just sort of get crazy the moment she steps off the plane.

Katara realizes that her mother's necklace, one of her most precious possessions, is gone. Vanished. As if it had never existed. She calls Toph the moment the plan lands, but her army of maids can't find it anywhere and all hope is lost. It's not even the end of her problems.

Upon returning home, Katara comes to discover that one of her spring term courses (one of those really important requirement filling courses) has been canceled **[A/N: I actually live on the west coast. I forgot that most east coast schools run on a semester system and in this case, this is a quarter systems. Which means she's signing up for new classes, in case that was confusing at all]**. What ensues is a three day nightmare as she tries to desperately find a new course before the add/drop deadline passes. The one class she manages to find is not only at a terrible time (freaking 7 in the evening until 9), but the last person she wants to see also happens to be in the class. Of course, it's not until the second class that Katara realizes that the vaguely familiar guy who sits three rows back to the left is Jet.

Talk about irony. Katara is sure her life can't get much worse than this. That is, until he approaches her after class.

"Go away," Katara tells him, stuffing her binder into her stylish, but ridiculously small bag.

"I just want to talk, Katara." Jet says, hands raised in a placating gesture.

She shoots him the nastiest glare possible, "There's nothing to talk about."

She turns on her heels and storms away. Not surprisingly, the idiot follows her.

"Katara! Please!" Jet pleads.

He opens the classroom door for her, follows her closely. Katara struggles into her raincoat, heads for the stairway. Jet grabs her hand.

"Please," he says, "Just hear me out."

It's clear that he's not going to leave her alone. Maybe what he has to say might be worth hearing. She kicks her sympathetic instincts even as she relents.

"You have two minutes." She tells him.

He grins, relief spreading across his face. Katara thinks of Zuko's golden, half-wild eyes and struggles to remain indifferent. Jet is a liar. She can't forget it.

"Thank you!" he says, and takes her other hand.

She can't yank both out of his grip fast enough.

"I'm sorry," he tells," I'm sorry for what happened and I can't even begin to explain how much I've missed you in my life."

Katara shakes her head, steels her heart (or what's left of it anyway). He stops speaking, gives her one of those wide-eyed innocent looks. She reminds herself that this is someone who has torn her heart to shreds. He is a liar and a cheater and she can never let him in again.

"No." she tells him and walks away.

That night Katara dreams of Zuko. She wonders if he's thinking of her.

* * *

Zuko can't sleep. Between an abundance of homework and over time at the Jasmine Dragon, he really doesn't have time to be haunted by a pair of pretty blue eyes.

Basically the universe hates Zuko.

It's been a month since he last saw Katara. A month of classes and work and being so ridiculously single that it's almost sickening. At first, he thought it would fade. Sure, Katara was pretty and intelligent and fun, but it was jusy a fling. A temporary relationship. She'd insisted on it being that and nothing more. And it _had _seemed like a good idea then, after the disastrous end of his relationship with Mai. Now? Not so much.

He's sure that Toph knows where she lives, her number, her last name. Zuko is on the verhe of calling her and brgging to know anything amd everything about Katara.

_But it was just a fling. _

What's to say she'd even be interested?

"Something tells me, my nephew," his uncle interrupts his thoughts, "that there is much on your mind."

"Really," he replies sarcastically, "And how would you know that?"

Iroh grins, "Why, you've been staring at that teapot for half an hour."

"I was not-" he protests, only to realize that he's boiled the tea dry.

"I think," his uncle says, "You're going to take a break."

He hands Zuko a cup of Jasime tea, to "calm himself."

"Perhaps when you return, you might like to talk about that girl?"

His uncle smiles that infuriatingly enigmatic ile, eyes crinkling, and Zuko just doesn't have enough energy to be annoyed.

"Toph told you." he says.

Those two are incurable gossips. Worse than old women. It's ridiculous.

Zuko trudges outside to the back and stands for a bit beneath the covered patio. It's raining (again). He wonders if it's raining wherever Katara is. And just like that, he knows that tonight he will call Toph and find his blue-eyed ghost.


	5. Bound

It's still raining by the time the Jasmine Dragon closes. This annoys Zuko as he sweeps and cleans (sweeping a wet tile floor is ridiculous), even though the rain reminds him of Katara. It's not hard to picture her dancing in the rain, hair loose and eyes shinning. Preferably dressed in something small and whi—he tries not to follow that train of thought. Its ten minutes past nine when he finally emerges from the dragon's den. And it's still raining.

The Jasmine Dragon is located on the edge of a random college campus, even though Zuko attends the engineering school halfway across town. Any semblance of a good mood dies with the knowledge that he has so much work to do that it'll be a miracle if he sleeps tonight. For a moment Zuko considers holding off on calling Toph, but the longer he waits, the higher chance there is that he'll chicken out. It _has_ to be tonight.

Zuko shrugs on his jacket and reaches for his keys. He finds a necklace instead. It's nothing more than a simple blue ribbon, worn and a little frayed about the edges, with a carved stone in the center. It's _Katara's_and it was most certainly _not_ in his pocket this morning.

_Uncle _(and probably Toph)

There was no doubting it. He checks his other pocket and there is a slip of paper. There is a phone number on it. He slaps his head; those two were the farthest thing from subtlety's exiled cousin three times removed. But that's not important because he's sure Katara wants her necklace back (he thinks it's an act of the universe that this phone is dead at the worst possible moment _ever_). But _even_ that's not important because Zuko looks up and twenty yards away is a short, dark-skinned girl with the longest, curliest brown hair. She's wearing all blue, but he's sure that her eyes are bluer than the sky (especially considering that the sky is a nasty shade of gray at the moment). He can't even imagine the coincidence of seeing Katara _here_ and _now_, but he's not about to waste this opportunity. Zuko opens his mouth to shout her name, but she turns sharply into a dark street. He drops his keys and runs like the world is on fire.

* * *

_"Come on, Katara," Jet had insisted weeks ago, "Just let me walk you home. There are plenty of unsavory types out there that would just love a go at your pretty little self."_

_She'd glared at him. "I'll take my chances," she'd said, "Walk yourself home, Jet."_

Maybe she should have realized that Jet was one of the unsavory types. Of course it's too late now because someone is following her and she doesn't have to see to know it's Jet. She's not afraid to fight him (seriously, had the moron forgotten the fact that she could kick his butt?), but she doesn't expect him to bring three friends. Three big, dangerous looking friends. They corner her in the _one dark street_ she passes through on her way home. The irony. Seriously.

"I warned you," Jet says as he steps out the shadows, with every inch of a classic villain (this guy has serious originality issues), "Didn't I warn her, guys?"

Her thoughts race, calculating her chances of winning this. She tries not to dwell on the heart-break, the fact that Jet had once been her entire world. They had been bound together by love and happiness, two against the world. And it was all a lie because he cut her away as if she had never meant a single thing.

"All this time," Jet says (she realizes that he hasn't stopped talking), "I've been here, patient and nice and _all_ I asked for was a chance, Katara."

"You don't get a chance." She tells him.

"_No_," Jet says, "_You_ don't get another chance to run."

They close in and she raises her fists. Jet grins.

"You're not the only one with a few fancy moves."

"I will hurt you," she tells him, "I will not hesitate."

"Neither will I." a voice says.

Zuko appears from the darkness (Katara would die from how cliche this whole set up was, but dear god, it's_Zuko_).

"_Zuko?_" she's afraid to blink for fear that he might disappear.

"Zuko?" Jet asks, "Who the hell is Zuko?"

They turn together. Having him at her side is…unimaginable. She doesn't care _how_ or _why_ because he's_here_.

"I can't help but notice you're short a partner," he says, "Mind if I jump in?"


	6. Soothe

If fighting against Zuko is something, then fighting with him is an entirely different ball game. Katara has to admit that it is quite attractive when a guy knocks a man down with a single punch to impress you (he'll complain about his knuckles later for more attention, of course). She ends up taking quite a few extra blows because _she's_ too busy watching him. Embarrassing, but she'll never admit it (Zuko's head is big enough as it is).

"_Keep your eyes on me!_" Jet practically screams, "_I'm the one fighting you!_"

"Oh, right, sorry," she says, then turns a rapid fire barrage of punches on him.

* * *

"You were really something out there," Zuko says, handing Katara a cup of tea, "You really did go easy on me the first time around."

Katara blushes (okay, maybe she threw a few overelaborate fancy moves herself), lowering an icepack from her eye, "I'm just glad you were there."

They lapse back into awkward silence. They haven't spoken much since beating the snot out of her would-be attackers and limping back to Zuko's Uncle's shop (Katara can't believe that _Iroh_ is his uncle because clearly the love for tea does _not_ run in the family). Katara sips her tea and is surprised at how soothing and just how undeniably good it is. She narrows her eyes.

"I thought you hated tea." She says.

"I do," he says as he takes a long draught of his, "But when I was 17 my uncle threatened to kick me out if I didn't learn how to make a decent pot."

"Really?" she laughs.

He nods and they laugh together. And then lapse back into silence. At this point Katara has a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. _Why are you here? Do you live here? Why haven't I seen you before?_

"I, uh, noticed that you live in this, uh, state." He says, scratching the back of his head.

Katara finds this awkward, blushing turtleduck side of Zuko just too adorable. She smiles.

"Yes, I do," she says, "I've noticed that you live here too."

They smile at each other again and Katara things this would be really stupid with anybody else, but she just wants to tell him the truth.

"I'm sorry," she blurts, "I didn't want just a fling. _I mean_, I did at first, but then I left L.A and I really, really missed you, Zuko."

He blinks opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He sputters.

"I…I—uh—

Katara pales, and then turns bright red. "I get it," she says, "its okay, Zuko, no don't get up it's fine—

She tries to get up, but he takes her hand and kisses her. It's a kiss that tastes of tea and is sweet and smooth and pretty much everything she'd hoped for.

"I feel the same," Zuko tells her some time later, when she's little more than a melted puddle of happiness in his arms, "I'm just bad at…_feelings_."

Katara smiles, "Can we try this again?"

He nods and touches his lips to hers again. His hands, stroking her back, are soothing and confident and threatening to pull her under again. Somehow, that doesn't seem like a bad idea.

"I love you." She whispers.

Something dawns in his eyes and he suddenly breaks away from her. He searches through his coat and cusses violently.

"Zuko?" she asks, leaning against another table.

"I love you, too," he says very quickly, "But just wait a second."

She narrows her eyes at him. That doesn't seem very loving. A second later he pulls something out of his pocket (turns out whatever he was looking for was actually there). He grins at her and hands her a necklace. Katara turns it over in her hands. _Her mother's necklace_.

"Where did you get this?" she asks, eyes wide with disbelief.

"I found it," he says, "And I remembered how much you loved it—

"You're such a dork." She says, but she can't help smiling so hard that it hurts.


	7. Spark

**[A/N]: At last we have reached the end of this story, but more importantly the end of Zutara week. I wanted to take a few moments to not only thank the awesome people who have been running this whole show, but also to the many fellow bloggers who have taken the time to read, like, reblog, and follow Spring break sucks. Without you all, this would not have been possible. Every like and comment was another boost I needed to finish this (I almost didn't post today, tbh) and you guys have been the best. Thank you so much for your support. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have (come on, who doesn't enjoy fluffy, sarcastic, and just a tad cliche Zutara? Seriously…)**

* * *

_—A YEAR LATER (or eleven months, two weeks, and three days if you've got to be picky)—_

It was a terrible dilemma. No right choice. No way out of this.

Pie? Or cake? Ice cream…?

Apple pie? No, Katara made that last week. And she hated cherry pie (who didn't ). Blueberry pie! Score!

And with that dilemma solved, Zuko picks up a blueberry pie, nudges aside a bottle of cider and a tube of tooth paste (his alibi at that moment; everybody needs toothpaste!), and sets it in his basket. He pays for his things and hurries along home. Katara is still sleeping and so far, this evening is going according to plan.

It might not technically be the night of their anniversary (that was a few weeks off), but Zuko wanted to celebrate the day they'd met (especially since the night they finally got together was immediately followed by the morning that Uncle found them both half-asleep and half-dressed in the Jasmine Dragon. Not to mention that a candlelight dinner might protect him from Katara's wrath (she's been on a warpath for days; he thinks she's getting sick or something) or at least imminent death. He's very careful about waking her.

"Katara," he calls softly, brushing the hair out of her face, "I have something to show you."

She shivers and wakes, blue eyes wide and smiling. He strokes her hair very slowly (this has proven to be very successful at calming her). She yawns, a faint and dainty gesture. For all that Katara is strong and stubborn and very un-dainty, Zuko loves the moments that she _is_ feminine and dainty (he just really likes all of her, strong and feminine and everything).

"Okay." She says softly.

He leads her into the living room, then out to the balcony. Waiting there is a candlelight dinner (small, because he has a feeling she'll want to break into the pie first). She smiles, her eyes light up, and Zuko makes an effort not grin.

"What's the occasion?" she asks, sitting down.

The question catches him off guard (which is really sad because anybody would have asked that).

"I…uh, I well—

Katara waits patiently (she's become awfully good at that), still smiling. He takes a moment to catch his breath, thinking that they should have at least eaten first or something.

"You and I met today," he says, "A year ago."

Realization dawns in her eyes, but she says nothing.

"I was supposed to be married one year ago today," he says, "But I met you and my life changed completely."

He fumbles with the box in his pocket, the one with the ring he's spent three weeks worrying about, and drops it. Katara easily plucks it out of the air. They stare at each other for a moment.

"You said once that you'd wished I had gotten a real wedding," he says and it feels like he's finally caught his confidence by the hind legs, "And I want you to be a part of that wedding. Will you marry me?"

Katara opens the box, stares at the ring. She looks back up at him. Sits back down on her chair.

"This is really convenient," she says, "Because I'm pregnant."

Everything is really quiet for a moment. Zuko feels a little faint. Katara smiles, weakly.

"I know, right?" she says, "Everything has just been falling together. We graduated, you've got a great new job, we're getting _married_. Now a baby…"

"Wait, you'll marry me?" he asks with a serious amount of disbelief.

She nods very quickly and he grins. Until it hits him that he's _going to be a father_. Everything spins a little for a moment.

"Just breathe," Katara tells him, "You'll be fine."

It's hard to imagine that _right now_, there is a son or daughter growing inside her. A tiny spark of life. Just like the spark of heat that started everything. He can't wait to watch it grow.


End file.
